


Drowning

by cyanidegirl



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Just wally wishing he could do more, M/M, Somebody help Dick, discussion of past rape, nightwing 93, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidegirl/pseuds/cyanidegirl
Summary: They never taught you how to heal this kind of wound.  He is drowning in the past and there is no life raft that can save him.





	

 You’re a fairly observant person, despite what people think.  You have to be, your line of work requires it.  Years of hanging around the bats have also helped your skills, and you have managed to learn the unspoken language of the bats.  You can read the slight slouch in batman's shoulders after Tim gets hurt on a mission, read the tension on his face that can only mean the Joker got out again.  

        But this also means you can read Dick like a book, in or out of costume.  You know from the way his eyes light up that he's about to kiss you, know by the way his hands twitch during a mission debriefing that the minute it's over he's going to throw you into bed and leave you _breathless._  You can take one look at his hair when he gets home and know by the way it's mussed whether or not he had a good or bad day.  You've filed away all this knowledge, and right now it is killing you.

        You know he is drowning in trauma,  and there's nothing anyone can do.

        It's the small things that tell you how much he's still hurting. (You remind yourself that this is a hurt that will likely never go away, that the wound she dealt him is the kind that never _really_ heals)  It’s in the way he freezes for just a moment whenever he sees a spider, and you kill it for him without even asking.  You grant him this small relief.

        You notice the way he closes his eyes every time Jaime calls Bart _querido_ , or when Jaime tells Bart _callado_ in an effort to get that always running mouth to stop.  You always move to stand beside him when this happens, sometimes you'll ask a question about a mission or what you might have for dinner later.  Anything to keep him in the present.

 

        His brothers come to you one day, worried sick over the way Nightwing froze up during a fight in a stairwell when Jason fired his gun at a thug. (They were rubber bullets, but you know this means nothing in the world of trauma) They didn't believe him for a second when he said he was fine, and though they won't say it aloud they are scared for him.  You know he still hasn't told them the whole story of what happened on the night blockbuster died, so you just tell them that it's just a reminder of blockbuster’s death.  Two of them believe you well enough, but Jason knows better.  You can see in his eyes that Jason's seen enough things in crime alley to know what happened to Dick.  He hangs back after the other two leave, surprises you by pulling you into a hug and thanking you for helping Dick.  He tells you that if Golden Boy ever needs another ear to listen, he'll always be around.  You see the relief flood Dick’s eyes when you deliver the message.

        Other nights are worse, nights when a storm rages and you can see him shrink with every flash of lightning, every clap of thunder.  Patrols are short on those nights, and you are quick to assess whether or not holding him is a good idea or not.  You always ask first.  On those nights, all you can do is sit next to him and provide distraction.  Keep his mind from wandering down to darker memories, keep him here in the present.  It doesn't always work, but you always try.

        You hate your ability to read him sometimes. You hate that you can see how he is drowning in those memories, how they are clogging his throat and choking his life.  You hate that there is no life raft to throw him.


End file.
